The Falcon Flies Again Part II
by Tenel Ka Chume Djo-Solo
Summary: More on the story of Chewbacca's Resurrection! A continuationf of The Falcon Flies Again!


****

CHAPTER EIGHT

Boba Fett was a bounty hunter—he was the _best _bounty hunter—and he did not enjoy doing nothing. He had been asked before what he did with all his credits—which was nobody's business but his own; many of the askers wouldn't be asking _anything _again—but one thing was well known. He didn't _waste_ them by doing nothing. Everything he did had a purpose, even this _nothing_, and Fett was patient, but that didn't mean he _enjoyed _it…especially with fools like Ras Alvtorr around to deal with. 

"Really, I don't see why—I mean, of course, you've told me before that you don't', that you won't, yes, but, well—I just don't see why you refuse—or at least you decline, you reject my offers to become part of this glorious future—I know, you've said, you don't get _involved_, that's not a bounty hunter's prerogative—but, well, still, you should, you know. You really should! After all, it's not as if this was a _normal_ petty little political scheme I'm proposing here! I'm giving you the chance of a lifetime, you know. Yes, the chance of a lifetime! You could join—"

"No."

"You refuse—you insist—you never allow me to fully explain, to entirely inform you of this—"

"No."

"But—but—but—but—you…You really should listen to me, you know. You could learn a lot, Boba Fett…"

The bounty hunter no longer listened. It was like changing the station on a comm, or tuning it out. The Dark Jedi fool kept babbling on, but since Fett never showed any reaction, he didn't know the hunter was ignoring him. 

It was dangerous not to hear things, but to not listen…that was different. It was deadly to not hear, but Fett had trained himself to ignore things that were irrelevant.

"…answer, you know, I mean, I really do expect—"

"I am going to check on the Wookiee."

"But—but—but—but…"

Fett turned and strode away from the sputtering Dark Jedi, leaving Alvtorr to babble incoherently to the walls…

They paid more attention to him.

* * *

Lowie came hustling around the corridor of the _Rock Dragon_. He knew Jaina had gone to tinker with the ship's inners somewhere in this direction. The young Wookiee wanted to find her and Zekk to tell them they were close to their destination and would be leaving hyperspace soon so the two could join the other friends in the cockpit.

He stopped, when he saw the two embracing. Embarrassed, the adolescent Jedi Knight started to slip back the way he'd come when the two broke apart quickly, blushing.

"Um, hi Lowie." Jaina, her face beat red tucked some of her disheveled hair behind an ear.

"Errn howrf grrff nerff…"

"No, that's okay Lowie…you don't have to go. We were, just, um…" Jaina's voice trailed off, at a loss for words.

Lowie looked at Zekk, wondering what the dark haired young man thought of his horrible intrusion, and almost burst out laughing. He hadn't known a human could _get _that red. 

"Was there…um, something you needed…er…"

Jaina's voice reminded Lowbacca of the reason he'd been here in the first place. He growled quickly in short, sharp Wookiee-barks.

"About to exit hyperspace? Already? Gees, we just stopped for a minute…um, well…I guess we should go the cockpit, huh?"

Lowie growled back in affirmative and quickly extracted himself from the uncomfortable situation. He didn't think Jacen would be too happy with Zekk…but Lowie didn't want his friends to think he was a snitch. _After all_, he figured, _Jacen and Jaina are Jedi Twins. They probably already know. I don't want to make any more of a fool of myself than I have already_.

That's true…Jacen probably already knew…and Zekk had probably told Jaina by now about the horrible news that Tenel Ka had just told him.

Poor Chewie, if he was still here, he'd think he'd failed his life-debt…

But then, if Chewie was still here, none of this would have happened… 

* * *

Chewbacca roared again; he knew it was useless—not only was this place large enough that Leia could be kilometers away, but the door and walls of his cell were probably sound-proof. It felt good just to be able to vent his frustration. He had already left a substantial dent in the right-rear wall of his cell, bruised both his hands and feet, and singed nearly all the fur off his left hand—which was now numb—trying to get through the force-shield bars. He was just preparing for another attempt when the door slid silently open.

It was…that…that…that…_evil creature_…that…Chewie, with all his extensive vocabulary (thanks in part to Han and Lando) couldn't come up with _just the right word_ to describe the loathing he felt for Ras Alvtorr…but that didn't stop him from using some passable substitutes!

"Now, now, master Chew Bacca, we must not have this…why look now, Chew Bacca, you have harmed yourself! You really should control that temper better you know…" he laughed evilly in what Chewie figured Palpatine would have sounded like had been both insane (well, more so than he was) and drinking a slimy, oily liquid. It made Chewie's fur raise and sent a chill up his spine…it was a more unhealthy sound than _any _the Wookiee had heard in his many years… He shivered with revulsion and more than a little fear…

* * *

Winter stared at the terminal monitor, but she wasn't seeing it. She was remembering…and since she never forgot anything, that was a normal pastime for her…but she was rarely so melancholy when she reviewed her memories. 

This time, she felt not only sad like thoughts of home brought (she was an Alderaanian), but guilty as well. 

She should have noticed the downward spiral the Princess's family was going through and taken pains to prevent anything like…_this_…from happening. Had she bothered to make certain, the princess would never have been captured—and certainly not without anyone noticing for a day! Nor would young Anakin have fallen to the Dark Side. Winter felt no compulsions about snooping when the safety of her friends and charges depended on information she could find—after all, during the Rebellion, she had been the infamous and Imperially-despised "Targeter" and "Recorder" and…her list of code names stretched on and on. She was one of the few who was able to remember them…because she forgot nothing—which made her feel even _more _guilty. 

Things like this had happened many times before; she should be able to prevent at least _some _of them! In hindsight, she could see the pattern. But hindsight wouldn't help her now. And at the moment, she was searching her memory for a clue. 

Despite her total-recall abilities, Winter was having trouble pinpointing this…and she _knew _it was familiar! The comm buzzed, distracting her from her reverie. The dignified aid to Princess Leia gracefully swiveled in her chair and reached out a slim arm to answer it.

"Yes, this is the Organa-Solo residence. May I help you—Admiral Ackbar," Winter smiled, pleased to see the Calamarian hero of the Rebellion.

"Winter," Ackbar replied in his gravelly, fishy voice.

"Is there something I can assist you with, Admiral?"

Ackbar cleared his throat. "Actually, Winter, this is purely a social visit…I am not in the personage of the New Republic at the moment. I am only 'Ackbar', not 'Admiral' right now."

"I see…Ackbar. How are you?"

"The same as the rest of my colleagues, I'm afraid…at our wits end over what to do next…but actually, I was calling to inquire as to how _you _were doing."

Winter knew he wasn't speaking about her health—not entirely—but rather how she was holding up under the strain of…all _this_… But that question was not one she wanted to answer at the moment. Not even to someone as good a friend as Ackbar was. 

She would go for the common, simple answer instead. "I am well, thank you. I am grieved to hear you are faring poorly, friend," she answered in the elaborate Alderaanian style.

"Winter, that is not what I mean at all and you know it. I am your friend, and I would like to know how you are holding up under this strain that we are all feeling." 

_So_, she thought, _he will not be put off. I suppose that is what makes a true friend; someone who worries about you even when you don't want them to. Still, I wish he were not so persistent at times_. "Admiral, really. You are the head of the New Republic Military, while I am merely an aid to Princess Leia Organa-Solo. You must have a far more pressing concerns than this."

"Winter, I hope that you do not think I am so callused…so _Imperial_ in my tactics. I care not only for the entire New Republic, but also for my friends. And I hope that I may call you one of them," the fishy Calamarian Admiral replied, serious-sounding as he usually was, but with worry shading his voice as well. 

"Ackbar—" Winter's normally dignified, calm demeanor evaporated under him concern, and she cried the tears she'd been holding back for years…She didn't remember ever crying so hard…not since she'd learned about _Alderaan_.

Ackbar didn't realize for a moment what was happening—he may have spent a lot of time around humans, but he was still a Calamarian, where excess moister was nothing abnormal—then his fish eyes filled with concern. "Winter, what is wrong? These—tears. You weep—you are saddened." 

Winter sniffled, trying to bring her watering eyes back under control. "You must think I'm extremely odd to be crying now, when I should be working on solving the problem—"

"No," Ackbar had replied, "I believe that now you shall be better—if what little I understand of humans is actually what I believe it is."

This cheered Winter, and she was able to reply without her voice trembling, "Admiral, there are humans who understand less of our species than you do…But I do feel rather foolish, crying now. If you will excuse me, I am going to pull myself together and continue with my research."

"Of course, Winter. And remember I am here for you anytime you need anything."

"Thank you Ackbar. Your comradeship means much to me."

"To me as well, my friend. And may the Force be with you." 

Winter stood and started for the refresher to wash her face when something the Admiral had said struck her—"If what little I understand of humans is actually what I believe it is…" Why did that seem so familiar… Winter closed her eyes and concentrated, dredging up things long, long past. It was only her infallible memory that allowed her to do so… She had it:

_Long ago, on Alderaan, when Winter was only ten years old, Bail Organa had been faced with a dilemma of a sinister nature…_

Mon Mothma and Bail Organa, friends even before the climatic events that would shake the galaxy to its foundations called the "Empire" had often conferred on matters difficult, taxing events. 

Outside the door to the conference room, two little girls had played with their dolls. One was the Alderaanian princess, Leia Organa, the other her friend and aid-to-be for when the little girl was of an age to assume diplomatic duties, known then only as Winter. While Leia scurried off to her room to retrieve a different dress for the dolls, Winter had sat down next to the door, resting her head against it…unwittingly becoming privy to a conversation she would not understand the significance of until mush later.

She had heard the voice of Mon Mothma, another Senator and a frequent correspondent with the Prince of Alderaan, Bail Organa, speaking: 

"Bail, you cannot know what even those who do have the Force do not acknowledge."

"They do not acknowledge it because they do not wish too! We, of all people should realize how easy it is to do that, with what has transpired here…"

"You make a point, but how would you explain…that_?" Mothma had responded. _

"If what little I understand of the Force is actually what I believe it is, then this…thing_…is more than an abomination! He is a disgrace, not only to the old Jedi, but also, if I am correct, to this 'Dark Side' we see the evidence of," Bail Organa had replied._

"Then," Mon Mothma had said, "what shall we do of this…abomination?"

"I do not know. But it must be drastic—and it must be soon! If the Empire notices this 'Ras Alvtorr' I shiver to think what they will use him for."

"It would be worse even than what they did to…Anakin," she whispered, and Winter had quickly scrambled away from the door, eyes wide.

Something that could make those two—both grownups and people who deserved respect from other _grownups—those two that Winter so looked-up to and idolized _had_ to be something too horrible to imagine. _

Suddenly, Alderaan, even under the protection of Bail Organa, didn't seem quite so safe to the young girl with silver hair…

Winter stood just as stiffly with eyes just as wide as she had as a young girl who had just overheard that conversation. This was worse than she would have thought…if it was _him_. She had later asked Bail Organa who Ras Alvtorr was, and he had looked both sickened and frightened, and told her not to worry. They—Mon Mothma's followers as well as Bail's—had made certain he would be unable to be found by anyone—not the Empire, and not by himself. At the time, she thought they had permanently gotten rid of him…and so had Bail Organa. They had not killed him, as Winter in her youthful, black and white, clear-cut, good vs. evil mind-set had believed. 

And now he was back, perhaps taking his revenge out on Leia for her father's actions. The thought filled Winter with fear and revulsion. She had to contact Ackbar and Dodonna _right away_…and then, with Mon Mothma…

* * *

It was raining. Rather hard. On most planets, that wouldn't be a big deal. But considering that it hardly ever rained here—at least not hard—it was something spectacular. It was even more spectacular considering that it was all at the hands of one young boy named Anakin Solo.

Especially since an Anakin had visited here before…Anakin _Skywalker_. And the planet was still suffering the effects of that visit…which was the reason that it hardly even rained here. Most of the water had evaporated in the fire-explosion-attack that had just about destroyed half the planet. 

Of course, Anakin _Solo_ didn't know any of this. And he was having a fine old time creating the biggest storm ever recorded in the history of the planet…well, maybe not a "fine old time" considering that his mood alternated between seething anger and hysterical mirth. He alternately cursed and laughed as the Dark Side danced in lightning bolts over his finger tips…

The sight was so similar to one that had nearly obliterated all life on their planet that the natives regarded it with terror and hatred…the feelings of the Dark Side. Anakin's—_both_ Anakin's—fear and pain had fuelled the storm, and then the fire…And another fire was close to being unleashed here…

One of the brasher, younger men—who had not been here to personally witness the destruction—strode up behind Anakin, a blade in his hand. He had walked right up to Anakin's back before the young Jedi decided to notice him and the threat he might have posed.

"What…do you think you were going to _do_?!" Anakin roared at him and clenched his fist. The man felt invisible fingers tighten around his throat, and childhood stories came rushing back to him. 

"Annkin Skghh…" he gasped and choked as Anakin tightened his grip.

"_What_ did you _say_?"

"Anakin…Sky…walk…er…"

The boy's cold blue eyes flashed with lightning and the man's eyes rolled back in his sockets. His neck cracked with a sickening _crunch_ and Anakin threw the body aside like a rag doll and it rolled on the ground before coming to a stop.

"I am _not_…_DARTH VADER!!!_" he cried out, creaming his fury to the storm, and the rain turned to strokes of lightning, flaming down form the sky. His eyes flashed with blue fire and the energy of the Dark Side built up around and within him. With a howl, he released the lighting-blue crackle of energy over the planet, dooming it just as before.

Just as another Anakin, form many years ago, had also done so.

Just like Darth Vader had…

****

CHAPTER NINE

Jaina, Lowbacca, Jacen, Zekk, and Tenel Ka sat anxiously in the cockpit of the _Rock Dragon_ as they waited for the planetary shield to be lowered. It was taking even longer than usual. When the comm controller came back on line, they _knew_ something was wrong.

"Uh…Your Royal Highnesses, Jacen and Jaina Solo, I am sorry, but the New Republic Security cannot allow you to enter the planet's atmosphere. 

"What? Why not?" the twins spoke in perfect unison.

"I…oh, dear, this is _so _embarrassing…um, well, you two could be, but your friends aren't cleared with security…" the Bothan seemed to stare directly at Zekk as she said this and Jaina bristled.

"Why _not_," she asked pointedly. "What's _wrong_ with them?"

":Oh! Nothing! I mean, I would _never_ presume to insult…_your_ friends! It's _certainly_ no concern of mine, I mean, the children of the Chief-of-State and of—"

"We already know who our parents are. Now how about you tell us just _why_ you can't let our friends onto the planet, okay?"

"It's just…well, security you know…since the…er, _incident_, security has become very tight, and we aren't allowed to let just _anybody_ in, you know. Not that your friends are just _anybody_ but…oh dear…I mean, the New Republic doesn't _know_ them, and…"

"Then how about we make the _introductions_, okay?"

"Er, well…um…"

Jaina began, "This," she gestured to her friend, "is Tenel Ka, Dathmorian warrior, Jedi Knight, _and_ the _princess_ of _Hapes_…granddaughter of the former Queen-Mother _Ta'a Chume_?" The comm officer's fur bristled in nervousness…and maybe a little bit of fear.

__

Apparently, Tenel Ka "thought" dryly to her friends, _the stories of my grandmother have reached Coruscant_. Weak mental giggles followed her comment.

"And _this_," Jaina continued, "is Zekk, a _Jedi Knight_ and a _hero_ of the New Republic." 

The comm officer's fur rose even higher as Jacen took up where his sister left off, "and _this_ is _Lowbacca the Wookiee_, also a Jedi Knight and also…the nephew of _Chewbacca_ the Wookiee…whom I assume you've heard about?" The Bothan's fur rose so high it looked almost comical. "Now," he continued, "can we land?"

"Uh…er, yes...um…of course…er…"

"_Thanks_," Jaina cut off the nervous female as she flicked the comm off. 

The _Rock Dragon_ coasted down to the private landing bay of the Chief-of-Sate…who was nobody knew where...or, if she was even still alive…

* * *

Leia was ready to kill something if she didn't get out of here soon. She was either going to go crazy with boredom of turn to the Dark Side if she had to listen to that…that…_Alvtorr78_ babble any more. She was so _sick_ of listening to that…that…_thing_ she thought she was going to throw-up…If she hadn't been stronger disciplined of mind, she might have seriously considered taking her lightsaber to _one_ of them—himself _or_ her—long before! As it was, whenever he began talking, she had started to contemplate it…

__

Arrgh, she thought, _what's taking them so _long_? Why haven't they rescued me yet? Surely someone had to have noticed when the _Slave_ whatever number it was had landed on her balcony and taken off with her! Her Noghri bodyguards, at least! _Unless they were all dead…that sobered her. What if Fett _had_ killed them all to capture her? What if…what if he killed _Winter_, too? The thought sent chills through her soul. What if Winter was…was…_dead_? 

"No," she whispered, "no." No. It just couldn't…it couldn't…not two of her best friends—friends so close they were family—not this close together! It wasn't _fair_! It wasn't…

"No!" she cried, "No! It's not _fair_! No!"

She pounded her fist against the wall futilely and leaned her tear-streaked face against it. "No," she whispered, "_no_…"

She was surprised when a moment later, she heard dull banging echoing back to her. 

"Wha…" She quickly tapped back in blink code: —Hello—

—Can't hear you— it tapped back, —louder—

—Trying. As loud as I can get it— Already her knuckles were stinging from the impact.

—Try using metal food dish— the unknown banger replied.

—What? Oh— Leia picked up the empty tray. —This better? —

—Much—, it replied, —Who are you? —

—Why should I trust you? Why don't you tell me who you are first?— the cautious princess insisted.

—Won't believe me if I do—

—Try me— she replied, thinking wryly that nothing much would surprise her here and now.

—No. You think I'm… it trailed off.

—Think you're what? Who are you? How do I know I can trust you? — she asked, perplexed.

The thudding stopped, as if thinking, then shocked Leia even more fully than before:

—Are you just about beady yourself? —

Leia gasped and dropped the metal tray. The only people who could know about _that_ private joke were close friends or family…

—Who are you? Who else have they kidnapped? — Leia tried to stretch out with the Force, but she was too tired. She'd been to keyed-up and nerve wracked lately to sleep…and too afraid, considering her location!

—I can not tell you who I am. You would not believe it. You must just trust me—

For some reason Leia couldn't have explained—even to herself—she felt inclined to trust this stranger…whoever it was!

* * *

The young Jedi Knights raced down the corridors of the former Imperial Palace, brushing past dignitaries and ambassadors with "excuse me"s thrown haphazardly over their shoulders. They screeched to a halt in front of a group of guards standing in front of the Chief-of-State's suit.

"Hold up there, youngsters…Oh, excuse me! I didn't recognize y'all, ma'ams, sirs. I'm, er, afreed y'all will hafta be scanned eend such afore we kin let ya' in ter th' rooms, though."

"Sure, sure, Jackson, just hurry, _please_!" Jacen jiggled his feet impatiently as the guards pulled scanning equipment from their belts and pouches.

"Hold on a sec!" Jaina cried, "What's the big idea? Why are you guarding our home _now_? There isn't anybody you can protect any_more_!" she let contempt and ridicule seep liberally into her voice and the guards blushed with shame.

"Weel now, missy, it's jist that it's standeerd per-ceed-yi-er and such-not. No offense inteended, of keers." 

"Well I think it's pretty darn useless, especially when you could be looking for her or guarding someone who _wasn't _kidnapped—under your noses, two!"

The guards looked everywhere but at the five Jedi confronting them. Staring at his shoes with interest, Jackson continued, shamefacedly, "now, missy, ah hate ta' be insultin' and such, but we ain't got no_ choice_ in th' matter." A murmur of agreement came from the others behind him. "It ain't that _we're_ insitin' on eet, it's that _they_ are!"

"Really?" Jacen became, his voice thick with scorn, but Tenel Ka interrupted:  
"I can not believe that New Republic guards would be so incapable. Why, even out in the Hapes System, our guards are trained to protect the Royal Family from attack—surely something so simple as an obvious kidnapping should not confound _your_ efforts! And I would think that such—such useless counter-moves would be above _you_. Even the poorest ambassador from the smallest, most underprivileged planets can afford _competent_ guards for protection." What the Hapean princess _didn't _tell them was that on Hapes, if you _didn't _have competent and able guards, you wouldn't last long. Some assassin or another would pay you a…_visit_. But the guards didn't know that, and under Tenel Ka's scornful disdain, the guards looked like they wanted to melt right through the floor. 

"Now," she sounded even more disgusted, "I would _suggest_ that you find something _useful _to do with yourselves." The dejected and ridiculed guard slunk away with many apologies and shamed looks. 

"Nice one, Tenel Ka!" Jacen whispered to her.

You couldn't be sure, but a faint blush _might _have tinged her cheeks, although she belittled it. "On Hapes," she replied, "you learn quickly how to deal with guards and the like. It is an 'art' learned at an early age. I did no more than apply my training."

"But you did good, still! Why…" Jacen's voice trailed off as he beheld his parent's room. 

"Smeggin Kest…" Jaina whispered. 

The others were more than inclined to agree.

* * *

The room was a shambles. The bedspread was twisted and mussed, pieces of an exploded glowlamp lay everywhere, the thick carpet showed signs of a struggle, and the windows to the balcony were fixed weakly with a quickie-repair job, and…The twins and their friends looked about in surprise and horror.

"Who—or what—could have done _this_?" Jacen wondered quietly.

Lowie moaned in agreement. The others felt the same…

* * *

"Master Lowbacca comments that he detects a heavy stench of ozone, such as is commonly the result when a silent-assassin's blaster, model 275-IKKb 2000 is employed," Em Teedee translated and embellished.  
"Ah. Aha. It would appear to me that he merely said 'this stinks, like when they use an assassin's big-one.'" Tenel Ka commented wryly as she studied the carpet.

"Humph," said Em Teedee, miffed.

"Hey, guys! Check this out!" Jaina exclaimed from where she was examining the door hinges. 

"What is it, Jaina?" Zekk asked, standing up besides her.

"These hinges…it _looks_ as if someone opened them using some kind of technology…I'm not sure how, or with what, though. And I _could_ be wrong." 

"Some kind of illegal security-breaking technology?" Jacen wondered.

"I have heard of such things before. They are highly illegal…and _highly_ expensive. Even my _grandmother_, Ta'a Chume, said they were little seen because of their cost."

"Whoo…" Jacen whistled, "now _that's _gotta be a lot of creds!"

"Somebody had to want mom pretty badly to spend that much…or else they do this sort of thing a pretty often…"

"Ah-_ha_!" Tenel Ka cried exultantly.

Lowie rumbled a query, and knelt down next to the warrior girl.

"I have found markings in the carpet, such as would be made if someone wearing spiked boots had stood here. And here, they are heavier, which would show the owner of the boots was carrying something…And here, she or he turns quickly this way…and then this…"

"You can read all that from the _carpet_?" Jacen asked in surprise. "I mean, I knew you were a tracker, but still…"

"A Dathmorian would find it more difficult, but, " she raised an eyebrow, "on Hapes, thick, rich carpets are quite common."

"Tenel Ka," Jacen peered at her, "did you just make a _joke_?"

"Did you find that funny? It was merely a fact." Despite her serious tone, Jacen thought he detected a glint of merriment in her eyes.

"Aw, Sithspit…" Zekk whispered.

"Arrough rowf herrrn?" Lowie asked, and Zekk replied quietly before Em Teedee could translate for him:

"I think…I know who this…who this _has_ to be…"

"Who?" the others asked in unison, whipping their heads around to stare at the dark haired young man.

"It _has_ to be…but…It's _Boba Fett_…"

* * *

"Boba _Fett_? How do you figure _that_?" Jaina stared at Zekk, wondering how the former street-urchin could have figured out not only what happened but also a specific _who_ from something an experienced tracker like Tenel Ka couldn't.

"Well, er, I _was_ a bounty hunter, you know, for a time. I kinda met up with him a couple times and I've heard some of the stories and nobody else I've heard of could have pulled this thing off."

"A _bounty hunter_, like _him_, with equipment _Ta'a Chume_ called expensive? C'mon, Zekk, pull the other one!" Jacen knew his friend wouldn't deliberately lie, but he had a healthy respect—and a more than a bit of fear—for the old matriarch. If someone with _that many_ credits said it cost a lot, it cost a _lot_.

"Can you think of any other bounty hunter who'd have even _half _as many credits to buy stuff like that with? And he _would_ use it a lot…"

"True, but how can you be so _sure_?"

"Trust me, Jacen. Boba Fett may be just some bounty hunter, but he didn't earn a reputation as the best bounty hunter with a lot of smoke and magician's tricks…He _earned _it…and _that_ is what has me worried. If he's got your mom, it'll be pretty hard to get her back from him." Zekk, in his naivete, didn't bother to think that since nobody before them—with considerably more experience then they—had ever gotten anyone out of Fett's hands he hadn't had _some_ reason to give up, _they_ couldn't. 

Pride comes before a fall. And the higher up you stand, the _harder_ you fall…

****

CHAPTER TEN

"Are you _sure_ that's the only way, Zekk?"

"Yes, Jaina, for the hundredth time, I'm sure. _I_ have to go after your mother—and Boba Fett—because I'm the one who's had the most experience with him. You and Jacen—at least one of you—has to go after your brother for obvious reasons, and somebody else has to go after your father—"

"And since Lowie, Em Teedee, and Sirra—if Lowie can get her—would work best together because nobody else is as familiar with Lowie's sister or the Wookiee language, they'd be the obvious ones to work together. And to look for dad, because I swear he knows as much Wookiee as a Wookiee would. And nobody should be on their own—that'd be too hard."

"I'm sorry, Jaina, you know if I could I'd rather have it some other way. It's just that—"

Lowie broke in with a series of growls.

"But, would that work…"

Lowie growled more, waving a hand to forestall more of Jaina's questions. He spoke in a patronizing voice, as if wondering how humans could be so blind.

"Are you _sure_, though—"

"He _sounds _pretty sure, Jaina. I think it's a good idea…it works well." He leaned closer to her, "And I know there's no one else I'd rather have as a copilot than you."

"Well, um, I'm not—"

Lowie growled slyly, and Jaina blushed. 

Zekk laughed, "No, I don't think Tenel Ka and Jacen will be any more upset with it than we will!"

"Zekk!" Jaina elbowed him playfully, "I guess we'll prep the ships while you get in touch with your sister, Lowie."

The Wookiee nodded his furry head and turned off towards the comm center.

"Lowie!" his sister roared her greeting, "Hey, I didn't expect to hear from you for a while—what's wrong?"

Lowie replied quickly to his sister, giving her a rapid overview of the situation. Her furry brow wrinkled in concentration. She agreed with him of the importance of things, but asked what he thought _she _could do about it. After all, she was only a junior pilot—only just graduated to her own small ship to help with escort duty.

Quickly, Lowie outlined his plan…

Coruscant Control was operating on low-maintenance duty right now, with only a few personnel on duty compared to the hundreds that normally filled the comm offices… Of course, they only needed a few personnel; just enough to tell people that _no_, they _couldn't _leave right now, and _no_, they _didn't _know how long it would be until they could. 

That's what made today all the more unusual for a junior comm officer working her stint in the communications center. Suddenly, her board lit-up with requests for lift-off.

"The _Lightning Rod_ requesting clearance for take-off, Coruscant Control."

"Clearance denied—wait—er, um…actually…oh, um, clearance granted, _Lightning Rod_…" 

"Thank you, Coruscant Control. _Lightning Rod _out."

In the cockpit of Zekk's ship, two young Jedi Knights flew off after the _Slave VII_—normally termed a suicide mission—to search for the missing Chief-of-State Leia Organa-Solo.

"_Rock Dragon_ is requesting permission for departure."  
"Permission…uh, permission granted, _Rock Dragon_, Coruscant Control out."

"Thank you Coruscant Control. _Rock Dragon _out."

In the Hapean Cruiser's cockpit, two more you Jedi trailed another Solo; this time a younger one, also a Jedi, Anakin Solo.

"_Rising Star_ wishes authorization for take-off from Coruscant."

"Permission denied…er, permission _granted_, that is, _Rising Star_…Coruscant Control out," the comm controller replied.

In the small two-person (or two-Wookiee) ship, another young Jedi Knight and his sister also tracked a Solo: Han, in the _Millennium Falcon_. 

Coruscant Control flicked the comm off and waited for further requests—although she doubted there would be any. In this emergency situation, _three_ ships—in a row—wanting to leave and _being_ _allowed to do so_ was more unusual than a Trandoshan and Wookiee getting along. _My,_ thought Coruscant Control_, _that_ was unusual. None of those ships _should _have been allowed to leave. I wonder just _who_ they are—must be somebody _really _important! Even the ambassadors have to go through a lot of channels before they're allowed to leave! Who could they _be_?…_

Across the galaxy, Jedi everywhere felt the same thing. It varied in intensity depending on their attunement with the Force and the amount of midichlorians in their bodies, but it was the same general feeling. It was one of fear…and then nothing. Many thought it only a bad dream, as for many it was, for it came during the sleeping time for most of the galaxy. It was as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror…and were suddenly silent. _Burned alive_, by the Dark Jedi lightning that ravaged their planet. Again, in less than a century, half of their planet was destroyed…all by a young boy. Destroyed by an angry young boy. Destroyed by an angry young boy with Force talent. 

Destroyed by an angry young boy…named _Anakin_…

__

Yoda, he tried for the millionth time, _hear me…I need your help, Master…hear me…_

"Still no luck, huh?" Mara's voice broke into his concentration.

Mutely, Luke shook his head "no" and wiped the sweat and swampy moisture from his brow.

"Luke, maybe he doesn't want to hear you."

"But he said—_Ben _said—that Yoda would always be with me. I know I haven't had contact with him for a while, but he was so _strong_ in the Force; when I needed his help the most, I could always contact him…"

"Maybe you have to do it on your own, now. You're the new Jedi Master—"

"But Yoda was more of a master than I could ever be. Everything the Empire destroyed; that's lost to us now, but Yoda knew it all. Surely, here, where he spent his final years, _some _presence would remain—enough that I could contact him, at least! I need his help, his guidance…"

"Luke," Mara sat down next to him, "I know you don't need this help. All you have to do is locate someone who was—_is_—a friend. That can't be so hard that you need a ghost to tell you what to do. Luke, you _don't _need any help. All you need is faith. Come on, farmboy," she smiled, "all the time I've known you, you've had _faith _more than anything or anyone I've ever known. Faith in your friends, faith in your Jedi Master, faith in the Force—don't quit on me _now_! You'll make me look bad."

Mara stood up and pulled Luke to his feet as well. "Now come on, let's go find Chewie before that brother-in-law of ours gets himself in any more trouble than he already is. Besides, aren't _you_ the one that's supposed to give the pep-talks, oh Great Jedi Master, not the ex-Imp assassin?"

The two walked back towards their ship. Luke Skywalker cast one long look back at the place that had been his training center, and sighed. Suddenly he shivered, and found he was staring in the direction of The Cave…the place where he'd fought Darth Vader—and himself—in a dream/Force vision. For a moment, he wondered if the memory had any greater significance, but no, he told himself, it was just a memory.

Just a memory…

But this was more than "just a memory"…this was something that could save her friend and the women she'd helped and protected since she was a girl! Winter knewthis was only a memory, but for her, a memory was something different. It was a way of storing information, better than any data-pad. Now, she just had to convince Borsk Fey'lya, the Bothan Senator, of that, without giving away her—and Leia's—secret…

"Senator, please, believe me, I am certain. I may be only the aid to Princess Organa-Solo, but I know what must be done to save her. It is true, I can not access these records without your approval—" _well, not without doing some code-slicing, but they don't need to know that_ "—but I do know this. I am not certain how much would even _be _in those records. I have never seen them—"

Fey'lya cut her off: "Then how do you _know_ what you are talking about, aid?"

"I was privy—" _so what if it was eavesdropping they didn't know about? I still heard them_ "—to a conversation between Mon Mothma and Bail Organa about this same entity—"

"And how long ago was _that_? Bail Organa—may he rest in peace, of course—has been dead for many years. How could you still remember so much after so long?"

__

Here comes the tricky part. For all they know, I'm just a simple aid. If they ever did _find out about my memory, they would be most displeased, and one of Leia's most valuable tools would be useless…but if I do not convince them to believe me, she will be dead. And I _cannot_ allow that to happen! _She would have to walk a thin tightrope, then. "Senator, I cannot say that the conversation was of little significant to me at the time; rather, I made specific note of it—" _even though I didn't really understand it, I made note of it because it scared me_ "—and am able to remember much—" _okay, all_ "—of it to this day. I implore you, you must believe me. Princess Organa-Solo's _life _may hang in the balance. Indeed, if I am right, it surely will—"

Just than, Admiral Ackbar burst into the chamber with Mon Mothma following slowly at his heels. 

"What is the meaning of this, Admiral? You cannot just barge in here during a private meeting behind closed doors and—"

"Be silent and listen to me, Fey'lya. This is a matter of grave importance; life and death, actually."

"Well, really—" the Bothan began, but was again cut short.

"I must breach protocol here, both by entering and bringing with me a 'civilian'—" by this he meant Mon Mothma, as if any would _ever _dispute her right to enter _any_ meeting, _any_time "—but I saw it necessary." Ackbar didn't allow anyone to comment or contest his actions, continuing, "we, Mon Mothma and I, have discovered information about that whereabouts of the Chief-of-State—information," Ackbar held up a hand to forestall the questions, "that must be kept secret. Were any news of this to leak out—through aids, secretaries, droids, family members, anyone—it would be disastrous. Instead, I am taking full military emergency-contention, as stated in the agreement of the alliance, under sub-heading four-hundred and ninety-one." 

Although few of the Senators knew what that meant, winter remembered. It meant that Ackbar would have, for a time, full jurisdiction and authority invested in him to make the decisions that would have impact upon a missing or otherwise indisposed member of the government, as well as a full military-halt being called over all actions that Ackbar wished. He would be able to do just about anything within reason and no one could contest it. Had he been less honorable and a less decorated hero, many would have panicked. Instead, they might only worry about another Empire—a completely preposterous situation considering it was _Ackbar_, but the media and other scandalous persons would not be denied their right to criticize and insult. 

The Senators' murmurings and gasps were also cut to an abrupt end when Ackbar continued. "This body, then, is dismissed until further notice."

"What?" came voices in many languages, "Why in all the heavens of Dreegann…" "How?" "What'd he say?" and "He doesn't have the right—"

"I assure you, Senators, I _do _have that right, and I am exercising it. You may all return to your homes—but I would ask that you not leave the planet. Security has become very tight—"

"You insult us! Do you mean that _we_—we, the Senators of the New Republic—would become _traitors_?" someone shrieked.

"No," replied the admiral calmly, "I merely say that we could not guarantee _your _safety. And we would not wish to loose _you _as well—any of you." Winter knew _that _was a lie—Ackbar, she was sure, would not care, personally, if Fey'lya were to jump off a cliff this very minute. In fact, he might even be—secretly—a little happy if the unpleasant Bothan were to kick the bucket.

"But—what about _her_," someone asked, "and _her_?"

"Winter and Mon Mothma are needed here to council with me. I require their knowledge of this threat. _You_, however, are dismissed. I must confer in private with these two." Ackbar's gravely voice carried a hint of steel as he basically ordered the Senators to lave—now. 

With muttered grumbling about pompous dictators and favoritism, they departed, leaving the Mon Calamarian Admiral, the Alderaanian woman, and the elderly hero alone. 

"Well," Mon Mothma commented wryly, "that went better than I'd though, with Fey'lya here."

Ackbar laughed shortly, "this is true. Now, on to darker matters. I take it that it is…true, what I've heard? There is a new threat—and one that seems to have captured Leia from us?"

Winter nodded mutely and the three Rebellion heroes put their heads together, trying to think of a solution…before it was too late.

__

Too late! The though rang like quicksilver through Tenel Ka's dream. _Too late! It's too late! _"Jacen!" she cried, stumbling from her berth towards the cockpit. "Jacen, it's too late! We're too late!" 

"Wha—" he swiveled around to face her as she rushed in, "Too late for _what_?"

"I…I do not know," her face was ashen as she stared past him out the viewport, "It is something wrong—horribly wrong—and we did not get there in time. And now…now, it is too late…"

"Tenel Ka," he was worried now, "look at me." He took her by the shoulders and stared into her eyes, "what are we too late for? What happened?"

"It was…as if many people…suddenly cried out in terror…and were suddenly silenced. Someone said it was 'too late' for…someone…someone we know…"

"But who? Who's it too late for? For what?"

"That, my friend, is what I am not sure of. But it is bad. Very bad…"

Chewbacca decided that enough was _enough_. He was _leaving_! He had to get Leia out—he _did _owe her a life-debt—soon, before something horrible happened. If Leia were hurt, Han would _never_ forgive him. Okay, maybe _Han _would forgive him, but Chewbacca would never forgive _himself _if anything happened to the little Alderaanian Princess. And now it wasn't just empty hopes that promoted this turn of thought in the Wookiee. Now, he had a plan. A simple one, yes, but that was fine. This way it wasn't too complicated. 

That, the Wookiee knew, should be a weakness of Fett's. Since it _was _so simple and plain, the bounty hunter—whom everyone knew was a complicated (if twisted) genius. The simpler it was, the harder Fett should find it to stop them. Now all he had to do was figure out the last steps—such as getting them _off _the station after he rescued himself and Leia. 

__

How, he wondered, _would he accomplish this feat. _The only ship he knew for certain was here was Fett's…whatever number it was now. Alvtorr _might _have one, but Chewie wasn't going to bet on that. If what he knew from the last time he'd run into the twisted Dark Jedi, even if he _had_ a ship, it might not be in any condition to _fly_.

Chewie knew the tales about Fett's numerous spaceships. They were impossible to enter; their security systems had enough fire power to wipe out an army—should it try to enter without proper code authorization; they ship itself was alive and would only allow Boba Fett or his prisoners to enter; they went on and on. Chewie _knew_ for a fact that some of them _had _to be fabrications, which made him all the less inclined to trust the others. He was confident he could crack the codes. After all, if Chewie could crack the high-level Imperial codes he and Han had dealt with back in their smuggling days, surely he could deal with some _bounty hunter's_! Besides, he'd have a Jedi _and _a Chief-of-State that just _happened _to be one of the Rebellion's greatest heroes to help him out! 

Chewbacca had to wait so long that he found himself awakening with a start at the slimy cackle of Ras Alvtorr as he came in to "check"—actually gloat—on his prisoner. Chewbacca's lips curled into a feral smile. Well, he wouldn't be a prisoner for long…

"Alright," sighed Chewie resignedly, "I've decided to cooperate. Take me there." He hoped that his gamble would work—luckily, if Alvtorr hadn't changed too much since Chewie had known him, it should. 

"Eh?" Alvtorr glanced about as if seeking something, "take you where, my hairy little friend?"

__

Don't call me "friend", Chewbacca though menacingly, but continued: "To the other prisoner, of course! You've been trying to get me there forever…don't you remember?"

"Huh? What? Oh, yes, of course! I, uh, thought you meant something else, er, _new_, you know?" Alvtorr continued, but Chewbacca was no longer listening.

He waited impatiently for the foul Dark Jedi to unlock his cell and docilely allowed himself to be lead out. He followed—meekly, very meekly—in his trail until they were out of the cell room, then…

He _leaped_! With a roar of Wookiee anger, Chewbacca jumped to Alvtorr's back, tackling him. The Dark Jedi went down—_hard_! Chewie was on him in a moment, teeth bared, claws extended, and _sliced _to his head knocking it _hard_. Alvtorr's eyeballs rolled back in his sockets and the Dark Jedi's head bobbed weakly. Chewie stood, and prepared to _jump_ and crush Alvtorr with his full-grown Wookiee weight, but blue lightning sent him flying. Chewie landed, moaning on the floor with an _oof_, but scrambled to his feet and prepared to leap at Ras Alvtorr and tear him limb from limb if he had to. 

Alvtorr stood up, eyes flashing, practically spitting lightning. "How _dare _you—how _dare you_!" he was practically incoherent with anger—but that didn't stop his powers, rather, it increased them. Dark Jedi lightning engulfed the Wookiee and Chewbacca roared with pain. Again, and again, and again, and again, and…

He wasn't sure how long it went on before a voice stopped it. By then all he could see was red and the tears of pain that dripped from his eyes. All he knew was that it stopped. 

"Are you planning to kill him, now?"

"What? No, no, I am _punishing _him! Yes, for his…his…"

"Unless that punishment includes the Wookiee's death, you'd best stop." 

"But…but…I'm not going to _kill _him…he's too valuable for _that_…I'm just…"

"If you do not stop, you _will _kill him."

"But…"

"I do not bring the dead back to life for any bounty, Alvtorr."

"I…I'm just…you…well, then…take him back to his cell—and see that he does not escape again!"

By this time Chewbacca could hardly hear anything but the roaring in his ears. Slowly the pain faded into blackness and Chewbacca was alone once more…

****

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"Ras Alvtorr—"

"I do not wish to speak with you."

"Alvtorr—"

"I do not wish to speak with you!"

"Alvtorr—"

"Go away! I will not speak with you!"

"You do not have to. Now listen."

"No! No, I won't! I won't I won't I won't!" Alvtorr stamped his foot in a childish display of temper and his eyes flared with lightning. 

"I have learned that the children of Solo and their friends seek their parents."

"So? Let them look! They're _children_! They're useless! They won't find anything—"

"The children of Solo are more resourceful than that. I am going to find and stop them."

"Fine! Do whatever you wish! Just do not allow the Wookiee to escape again! Fail me once more…"

"I cannot stop you from being a fool. Do what you wish. If you let the Wookiee out again, that is not my problem." Fett turned on one booted heel and stalked from the room.

"Well—fine! Go! Leave! I don't need _you_! Not at all! Go! Get out! _Leave_!"

Fett continued his exit as if he hadn't heard anything. 

"Get out! Go away!" Alvtorr screamed and fumed futilely. He turned and grabbed the small, heavy statue from a table and flung it at the departing bounty hunter. It tangled in his long robes and he pitched to the floor. After cursing and raging futilely, he fought to his feet and stormed off to sulk.

The _Slave VII _lifted off in search of the Solo children…

"Zekk! Get up here—now!" the sleeping young man tumbled off his bunk and had his boots on his feet and shirt buttoned before his eyes were opened. He scrambled to the cockpit rubbing sleep from his eyes. 

"Wha—" he swallowed and tried again, "What's the matter?"

"Quick—shields up!" Without question, Zekk complied, flicking the switch and sliding into the co-pilot's seat. 

"What is it?" he tried again, scanning the instrument panel—and got his answer. A boogey at 2 o'clock—coming in faster than most ships could, and…"Smeggin' Kest!"

"Yep. I was right?"

"Sure were," Zekk cursed, "it's him alright."

"Sithspawned cross-bred slimy piece of worm-ridden filth!"

"Yeah—but can we do that _later_? Now—how about we try and keep from having to shoot it out with him? No matter how many modifications we've packed into this hulk, I don't know if we should pit her against the _Slave_…whatever smeggin' number it is!"

"Good point…now let's show this scum who he's messing with!" Jaina's face curled into an expression reminiscent of her father's when he was determined to show someone how good he was—and the smile was not altogether a pleasant one! 

The two quickly exchanged places—they were both good pilots _and _gunners, but Zekk knew his ship better, and could tell how far he could reasonably push her. 

"Well, copilot—may the Force be with you!" quickly, the two powered up their systems and prepared to intercept.

Well, they _thought _they were prepared to intercept. That illusion was shattered when the _Slave VII _vanished. 

"Huh? Where did that son of a—"

"Zekk! Look out! Coming in at 6 o'clock!"

Instinctively Zekk jerked the _Lightning Rod _up and away from Fett's fire. "Smeg," he cursed, "that was close—whoa!"

Boba Fett pulled his ship into a barrel roll and came out shooting, flying directly at the _Lighting Rod_. Zekk spun his ship to port and the _Slave VII _blew past, turbolasers bristling. Zekk turned the _Lighting Rod_ in an abrupt about-face to give chase. Jaina's laserfire tracked across the void towards the _Slave VII_ that cut down and to starboard, coming up to the side of the _Lighting Rod _and almost out of rang from Jaina's guns.

Almost—she fired repeatedly at the _Slave VII_ with the ship's starboard turbolasers. Fett pulled into a double barrel roll and the _Lighting Rod_ shuddered from the repeated blasts. 

"Jaina! Shoot him already!"

"I'm trying—if you weren't shaking the ship so much I would!"

"If I don't dodge he'll cream us!"

"Well don't do it when I have a perfect shot!"

"Shoot faster!"

"Fly straighter!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

The two subsided into a tense silence—interspersed with a few colorful descriptions—as they fought desperately to survive this high-intensity space battle…

"I got him, I got him—" Jaina began gleefully as a small explosion on the outer hull of the _Slave VII_ gave testimony that his shield's had failed—

Or at least it would have in any other ship. But Jaina's next volley still encountered the shields…somehow.

"How the Smeg did he do that…" _a backup maybe?_ she wondered in confusion.

"Jaina, we got trouble!"

"His shields died, but then they came back up. That's impossible…"  
"Jaina, that wasn't his shields dying! That was him firing a Dymek concussion missile!"

"_What_? But those things are so illegal they cost more than the entire—"

"Do you honestly think he cares if their legal or not? Besides, now is _not _the time to start debating legalities—we're about to—"

A very large _boom_ broke Zekk's words off, and sent the small ship tumbling through space. 

"Zekk! What was _that_?" Their fingers flew over the controls, bypassing broken systems, trying to get a damage assessment, setting circuitry repairs in motion with one hand and flying or shooting with the other.

"Jaina—he hit us! The Dymek was a decoy—I dodged it—right _into _his missile!"

"What kind?"

"A missile—just a plain old missile—but it's still _deadly_, and I'd appreciate a little more tactical help and a little less mechanical assessing!"  
"I'm trying to figure out how bad—"

"Look at the console—it's bad. Really bad." Zekk pulled the _Lightning Rod_ into a barrel roll to escape another blast.

"Ouch. It _is_…. Zekk, how much more of this pounding can she _take_?"  
"I don't know…but I don't want to find out!"

"Good idea. So: What are we gonna _do_ about it?"

"Good news: I've got a plan. Bad news: I have no clue how to pull it off…"

In the cockpit of the _Slave VII_ Boba Fett watched the _Lighting Rod _with a hunter's eye. He could tell that the two had to be planning something—either that or their ship suffered a "_Millennium Falcon_ Complex"—no working hyperdrive. He doubted that. 

Behind the dark visor of his helmet, Boba Fett's eyes narrowed…abruptly, he reached behind the pilot's chair and flipped a hidden panel open. He toggled a switch on and guided a tracker-circle across his viewport until it landed on the hovering and dodging _Lighting Rod_. He flipped the switch the full way down and a light bleeped. The whole process had taken a matter of seconds.

And now…his comm buzzed with static and he made a minor adjustment. Suddenly, he could hear the young Jedi Knights.

What Fett had done was sliced into their console computer—gambling that they would be so busy they wouldn't notice—and remotely turning on their comm. Until they noticed and switched it off manually, he could eavesdrop on them. He rarely employed it—usually, of course, there was little need. But Fett had run into these Jedi brats before—and he knew that they could be very resourceful. He decided, for now, to lean towards the side of caution. It cost his ship little power and almost no shield strength—he doubted he would need it all. But, if he would, this way he would know about it before it was needed. Depending, of course, on what the two said. 

Silence was not just to hide information or intimidate others. It could also be employed in eavesdropping. Since there was rarely any sounds from Boba Fett, a sudden comm-blocker would not be noticed…nor would his listening in. 

"Won't he exp…tha…and will…but…" Fett frowned in annoyance and slightly recalibrated the equipment he used for receiving. The battle must have damaged it slightly—knocked it off balance. He would have to adjust that later.

"I see, Zekk. But how to pull it off?" That would be Solo's daughter. The mechanical one with the violet lightsaber. Took after her mother with her leadership capabilities. One to watch carefully. 

"That's easy! We just have to trick him." And that was the former bounty hunter and reformed Dark Jedi. Naive and overconfident of his powers. Also perhaps still doubting his use of the mystical "Force" from his days under Brakiss at the Shadow Academy. Fett would have to investigate that more fully. If his sources were correct—and they rarely were not—he had recently constructed a lightsaber; one of an orange hue. He and Solo's daughter seemed to have a romantic status. That could be used against them; love was more than a useless emotion, it was something that got you killed much easier and a whole lot faster. 

"And just _how_ do you think we'll do _that_? He's a little bit smarter than some ordinary criminal, you know." Hmm. She also seemed to assess her opponents without Jedi-overconfidence like the Zekk.

"Oh, easy. Here, let me explain…" As Zekk outlined his plans, Boba Fett shook his helmeted head over the simpleness and inexperience of the youth. Even without his advantage of knowing exactly what they were planning, he never would have fallen for something so simple. Yet another weakness he could exploit. 

These two would be rather simple to eliminate for all their so-called Force-talent…but Boba Fett didn't want them _dead_—not yet, at least. He wanted them out of the way—but alive. Based on their abilities from earlier encounters and his intelligence sources, those two would survive what he had planned. If they didn't, _too bad_. It wouldn't brake his heart (if he still had one)—and Fett always had more than _one _play in every hand. 

Now, to play the Jedi for fools…rather tricky considering they could sense deception and lies. Tricky, but not impossible. 

Where Boba Fett was concerned, _nothing_ was impossible.

****

CHAPTER TWELVE

Rouge Squadron was an elite group of X-wing pilots. They were legends, living and dead. Their story had begun before they did. Biggs Darklighter. Porkins. Hobbie. Dack. Zev. Peshk Vri'Syk. Lujayne Forge. Andoorni Hui. Riv Shiel. The list was long. Too long. And it looked like it'd be getting a lot longer. 

Wedge Antilles was the only person still living who could say he'd been with it since the start. For some reason, he hadn't died. Not at the First Death Star, not at Hoth, Derra VI, the Second Death Star, the Ssi'ruk, the conquest of Coruscant, not by Ysane Isard's hands or anyone else's. 

And he was still a Commander. 

Hopefully, he'd stay that way forever. Wedge had his hands more than full taking care of one _squadron_. If that ever increased to one _flagship_, or one _cruiser_…Wedge didn't look forward to it. Not one bit. 

Okay, maybe, on days like this, he did. Just a teeny little itty-bitty micron of maybe. Just one small part of him did. Okay, on days like this, maybe he _did _look forward to it. Maybe more than he'd like to admit to Admiral Ackbar. 

But that wasn't his fault! Anyone would when they'd just been woken up at two-in-the-morning with an enraged New Republic general shouting in your face over the holo-comm. 

And shouting about your pilots, no less.

"Alright, general, sir. I do see your point, sir, but my pilots were _not _disobeying direct orders, sir."

"Is that so, Antilles? Then maybe you'd like to tell me just what the Sith they _were _doing?"

"Of course, general. I'd be happy to explain, sir. Seeing as how my pilots had no missions up-coming and hadn't had leave for a while, I thought I'd just let them have some fun, sir."

"'Fun' is it, Commander?"

"Yes, sir. That's what I had in mind and that's what my pilots did. Nothing wrong with a night on the town, sir."

"A night _destroying _the town's more like it, Commander."

"Not at all, sir. There was very little collateral damage involved in it, sir. And my pilots didn't start it."

"Are you attempting to blame Salm for the problem, Antilles?"

"Never, sir. Placing any blame at all on General Salm was the farthest from my mind, sir. He would never participate in something of the sort. His pilots, though…Well, sir, some of them are rather new, and they might be a bit uppity about their pig troughs—er, Y-wings, and…But perhaps you'd prefer it if I came over, say, around six to your office to tell you in detail?"

"That will be quite impossible, Commander."

"Well, some other time that day, when you're free then, sir."

"Oh, I'm free at six, Commander."

"So am I, sir…so what's the problem?"

"You're not free at six, Commander."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but I am. I don't have anything scheduled then."

"Yes you do."

"I do?"

"You won't be here, Commander." 

"I won't, sir?"

"No, Antilles."

"Then where _will _I be, general."

"By then you'll probably already be en route."

"En route, sir?"

"To your mission, Commander."

"Mission? We don't have any mission, sir."

"You do now."

Chewbacca growled lightly and immediately regretted it. He _hurt _like…like…well, he was sure he'd ended up hurting like this _sometime_, he just couldn't think of any at the moment… He felt tired, and wished he hadn't woken up. Then he realized what it was that had awoken him. An insistent banging thudded in his ears. _Go away_, he thought angrily—then remembered. It had to be Leia! It was—and she was worried. He could tell from the way she tapped out the messages:

—Respond, please! Repeat: Have not heard from you. Respond, please. Can you hear me? Respond, please!— she sounded just about ready to give up, when she said —Are you just about beady to respond? Talk to me!—

Chewbacca groaned and managed to sit up leaning against the wall. He was stiff and his fur was burnt in patches. A smell of ash and lightning was in his nose. He gingerly picked up the metal tray by his side and tapped back in blink code to the Princess:

—Alvtorr hurt. Talk later. Rest now. May Force be with, Princess— and slid back down on his pallet, back down into peaceful blackness.

Anakin Solo stood, staring in shock and disbelief at the destruction he had just wrought. A smile slowly spread over his face. The…sheer _power _he'd just had in his hands was amazing! It was wonderful! Smoke rose from the blackened and charred ground around his feet and ash blew in clouds around his solitary form, giving him the appearance of an ancient—and evil—wizard of myth. Small crackles of lightning chased each other across the barren ground. 

Suddenly, a noise from the sky interrupted his thoughts. A ship was vectoring in on him—a ship he recognized! It was the _Rock Dragon_, the Hapean cruiser that belonged to his sister and brother's friend, Tenel Ka! They were coming to get him! They cared about him! They missed him! They—

They didn't care about him; not that way. They were just going to come get him, tell him the came things his mom had told him, that it wasn't his fault. That he hadn't killed Chewie. 

They would make him come back.

He wouldn't let them do that. 

The two young Jedi Knights stared out the viewports of the _Rock Dragon_ at the desolate land before them. And at the young boy in the center of the destruction. At _Anakin Solo_.   
"By. The. Force…" Jacen whispered in stunned surprise.

"Friend Jacen…I do not believe that the Force had anything to do with this…Or, at least, the _Light Side _didn't…"

"You know, Tenel Ka, I think you're right…And that's what has me scared more than anything…"

The _Lightning Rod_ bucked under repeated fire from Fett's ship, the _Slave VII_. Suddenly, the lights went dead, as if a lucky shot had fried all power to the ship. Inside the cockpit, Jaina and Zekk crossed their fingers and _hoped _desperately that their plan would work. 

Boba Fett _had_ to be tricked. He _had_ to be. It was their one and only chance…

Fett didn't fall for it. 

First of all, he knew their plan. Secondly, it was a pitiful attempt. _Bossk _wouldn't even fall for it. Well, maybe not. He might have. His overconfidence would get him killed sooner or later. But now was the time to decide if he would go for the subtle or the obvious…

In the split second it took for him to process the information he had already begun his own movements. The _Slave VII _cruised in towards the silent ship—and drop-rolled around to the back of it shooting lasers in a downward arc as it spun towards the engines. Fett kept up with the laser-firing one handed, making it appear as if he was only testing the ship to gauge whether or not it truly _was _powerless, then with his free hand he targeted with a different weapon. A panel on the side of the ship slid open and a launcher activated…

"He fell for it! Yes!" the two young Jedi ecstatically punched buttons and computations. 

Boba Fett was no longer in position to either block them from entering hyperspace, or to blast them to force their ship to juke and dodge, which would also have prevented their escape to lightspeed. 

"That's it, Zekk. We're ready to hop to hyperspace!"

"All right, package ready to drop as well!" 

"Let's do it!" Jaina smiled and reached towards the lever that would take them to safety, but before she could touch it…

"Our shields are failing!"

"They're gone!"

"Fine, fine, we'll fix the ship after we get out of here."

"Punch i—" 

__

WHAM!!!! 

Boba Fett fired his IB-8000 Detonation-proximity missile. _The _missile. Even _he _only had two of them now. They were the most limited and destructive of the proximity missiles—and only the fact that they had proximity sensors as a default that could not be unabled kept them for being _the _most deadly weapons in ship-to-ship (or ship-to-whatever the heck you wanted) combat. 

Fett had originally had four. One he'd used to destroy a space station where armed and dangerous prey was hiding along with a few mortal enemies. This one, he used to severely damage and cripple the _Lightning Rod_. Now he had two left. He would have to speak with his…_supplier_ before he returned to Ras Alvtorr's base. It was never good to be without such useful tools. But if the other Jedi turned out to be as overconfident as these two had, perhaps he wouldn't need them. He certainly hadn't needed them on Zekk and Jaina. They ship was now so many spare parts on a tumbling course towards a backwater planet. Fett had crippled it easily.

If he'd wanted, he could have vaporized it.

He didn't want to.

Luckily for the Solo brat and Zekk. 

Or maybe _un_luckily. 

Their ship was so badly damaged the slightest action on his part could have reduced it all to a cloud of hydrogen. But Fett didn't want them _dead_—he just wanted them out of the way. The crash could easily kill them, but that didn't concern Boba Fett.

If they died from it, then they were too weak to be of any use to his plans.

****

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Lowie leaned back in the co-pilot's seat of the _Rising Star_, his sister Sirrakuk's ship. While his sister had recently acquired her, thanks to her promotion of service in the New Republic, she handled her well. Lowie growled his compliments of her flying to his sister, and Em Teedee began to translate. Both Wookiee's growled at him to hush. 

"Well, really, I quite understand that you both speak Wookiee very well, being Wookiees and all but…oh, my. I seem to be at a loss for words!"

At this singular and _very _uncommon comment, both Wookiees roared with laughter, drowning out the rest of the small droid's words. As the laughter faded, Lowie kindly suggested that, since Em Teedee would have nothing to do for some time, the little droid might wish to shut down for a refresh cycle. 

Lowie and his sister than spent the next two standard time parts relating their recent exploits to each other. What they'd been doing, what had happened, who they'd met and the like. Sirra, it seemed had been engaged in rather normal duties for a rookie transport pilot, with two notable exceptions. She'd spent much time doing the normal nominal conveyance duties: ferrying weapons, arms, munitions, goods, and medicines. It turned out that on one of her missions, though, she had ferried arms of some sort to General Cracken's squadron of X-wings, the Wraiths. 

The Wraiths were the other end of the spectrum that contained Rouge Squadron. The Rouges were the shiny, publicized lightsaber that people saw cutting cleanly, fighting the good fights. But not all battles were fought with lightsabers. Some took place using vibroblades and fists in the shadows; that was what the Wraiths did. The Wraiths were different also in that they belonged to General Airen Cracken, the head of New Republic Intelligence. She'd actually gotten a chance to talk with some of the Wraiths on her mission: Squeaky, their droid quartermaster, and Garik Loran, the unit's head, better known as "the Face" from holodramas. Her other surprising mission had been on just that other end of the rainbow: Rouge Squadron. 

Commanded by Wedge Antilles, Rouge Squadron was the most elite fighter squadron in the galaxy. The Rouges were the people who had stopped both Death Stars, liberated Coruscant, and defeated Ysane Isard. On one of Sirra's missions, she had apparently been transporting something more valuable than bacta to a colony: it was something so important that Rouge Squadron had escorted her. On that trip, she'd had a chance to chat with many of the Rouges, who seemed not at all concerned with the disciplines normally maintained by such elite groups. In fact, they'd seemed to welcome the chance to talk with the freighters. After arriving at their destination, Sirra had gotten to have the chance to meet some of the Rouges personally during the cargo offloading. She said that she'd even been offered another transport mission personally by Nawara Ven, the Rouge's XO, but had been forced to turn it down due to "security conflicts" Cracken's people found. She'd also individually met Ooryl Qyrgg, Inyri Forge, Rhysati Ynr, and Gavin Darklighter during her short stint at the Rouge's base. All honors high enough to impress her brother, Lowbacca, beyond belief. The fact that Gavin had seemed to be impressed by _her_, though, she still didn't understand. Would her brother clear that up for her?

Of course he would. Gavin _Darklighter _was _Biggs _Darklighter's cousin. Biggs, Lowbacca explained, had died in trying to destroy the first Death Star. This, Lowie pointed out, would lead to Gavin's being very impressed with those who _did _destroy that horrible weapon. It was due to Biggs's sacrificing himself to let Luke live long enough to take the shot. Since it was the _Millennium Falcon_, piloted by Han Solo and _Chewbacca_, their _uncle_, that had finished the job his cousin had started, that would necessitate in Gavin's being impressed by _their _family ties.

Sirrakuk than thanked Lowie profusely for explaining it to her, and realized she should have seen it herself. After all, humans don't usually put so much stock into family ties as Wookiees did. That Gavin was related to the posthumous hero of that same last name was something she hadn't realized, and since she had felt uncomfortable with someone from _Rouge Squadron _being impressed by a mere transport pilot, was it really any wonder she hadn't asked him why? Instead, Sirra had tried to ignore it as much as possible. 

Lowie replied that he probably would have done the same, and the only reason he had realized the reason of Gavin's respect was that he had been on Coruscant more and to the galactic museum there, which showed heroes from the days of the Rebellion. At the museum, he had seen the prestige that all members—living and dead—of Rouge Squadron were honored there, and that since in that same museum their uncle Chewbacca's heroics were recorded, he had been able to make that connection. 

Sirra replied that, yes, that would have made things much clearer to her as well. Still, she said, she was also very saddened that Chewbacca was now one of the latter type of heroes. 

A dead one.

Rouge Squadron had too many dead heroes in its ranks. Wedge wasn't interested in adding another to them. With Jaina gone…somewhere, and unreachable, though, Wedge found he really had little choice in the matter. Thanks to Rhysati Ynr's amazing return, he had one of the earlier members of the Rouges back with him, so he wasn't as worried there as he might have been. However, that didn't do anything to salve his guilt at asking a more inexperienced pilot to fly with them now. Nothing could do that. While Wedge had the utmost confidence in his new recruit's abilities, that didn't mean they would be making it back alive. As it was, he'd done some shifting around to take advantage of the more experienced groups and fighters. 

He'd paired one of the rookies with Gavin, who knew how to hang back enough to guard his wing as well as being able to sympathize with them on the necessity of being held back. The other one he'd stuck with Rhysati, and while the woman might not have been the _fastest_ of the Rouges with her X-wing(which was still pretty fast!), the fact that she'd been able to "disappear" for some time and still come back to them all played in her favor. That along with the fact that she'd been in on many of the…_harder_ parts of their missions should keep both her and her wing alive. Wedge knew that Tycho could easily have handled taking care of another rookie, but he'd prefer that he didn't have to. With him flying and Tycho as his wing, they should be able to vape anything that took a shot at them. The two of them worked very well together in their ships and were both some of the hottest hands around.

Now, all he had to do was figure out who he was going to stick in the other two ships. Jaina was MIA and his other pilot was down on medical leave—and not likely to recover anytime soon. Thankfully, Ackbar had given him full reign on the mission within his parameters, that meant that _he _and _he alone _would be able to pick out who he wanted on his ships. 

So who did he want? Wedge was under no illusions here; anyone he picked to fly with him was someone he would be picking to possible die with him. 

Finally, after going over name after name after name on his datapad, he thought he had four candidates picked out. He'd contact them all, see who wanted in and could be in, then make any finale choices that were needed. He had FreeanHarlick**, **Aau'Trey, Jennnsingsah, and GreelDua. Now all he had to do was make his choice.

First on the list of interviews was Freean Harlick. A human from the planet Corulag. Freean was an able pilot and crack shot, better fit for the Wraiths than the Rouges, but he already had a few battles and kills under his belt, which made Wedge feel better. 

However, he _was _late, which Wedge didn't like at all. He was just about to tell the man to cancel the interview when he got a comm call from the main military med-center on Coruscant. It turned out that Freean was down with a serious illness. While, the 2-1B informed him, Freean was expected to fully recover, it was both contagious enough that he couldn't meet with others, and also debilitating enough that he was unfit to fly. In fact, Wedge was informed, he wasn't even allowed to speak over the comm, the disease had him down so badly. _Well_, Wedge thought sardonically, _at least that knocks one of the choices off my list…_Unfortunately, it was one of the choices he was more comfortable with thanks to Freean's previous combat experience, even if the man was a bit slower at the helm than the others were. 

_All right, and the second candidate is…_Aau'Trey, a Twi'lek from Ryloth. She's both a mechanic and a pilot, which would help if he had a mission where support personnel were limited; again, suitable for Wraith more so than Rouge…if it weren't for the sheer _speed _she could coax out of anything. That would suit her more for an A-wing than the Rouges' X-wing, but her numbers on that were high also. If she'd been in more battles he'd have felt better; as it was she had yet to earn any combat wings or kills. Although she'd trained recently as part of an A-wing squadron, he felt certain that she'd accept the offer to join the Rouges if he made it to her. Hopefully, _she _won't be down with something, or otherwise occupied…

The opening of his office door cut that line of though off as Aau'Trey walked in. Tall and slender, the Twi'lek managed to look stunning even given the early hour. How she managed to look so awake at this time at night—now, Wedge amended, at this time in the morning—he didn't know, but he was jealous. Her light blue skin seemed to shine and the way she wore her tan and turquoise pants suit over her thin frame was enough to make any runway designer drool. It was enough to make _Wedge_ wary, afraid that her performance numbers didn't show the exact truth. From her record, she would have killed him had he suggested _she _had had anything to do with faking them, but some officers wouldn't have thought twice about it to keep her in their wing. _Better not to judge what _they_ might have done. She might just be a stunning pilot. You've seen some before!_ His own squadrons were proof of that; Rhysati, Inyri, Asyr, he could find three examples just of lovely fliers just in the Rouges.

"Commander Antilles, Aau'Trey reporting, sir." _Sounds like an actress right out a holodrama…_

"At ease. I don't have much time, so I'll be brief and cut to the chase. My Rouges are short on pilots and I'm taking them somewhere. I _might_ be interested in using you to fill out their numbers; this interview is your chance to either decline or convince me I should take you. Go ahead."

"Ah." If his abruptness threw her off, she covered it well. "I see, Commander. In that case, I won't waste your time with needless details. You obviously have my profile on your desk in front of you; I just as obviously would love to become part of Rouge Squadron, even temporarily. If you want me to fill out anything, show you anything, etc., I'm certain you can tell me what that is."

If _her_ abruptness threw _him _off, he hoped he covered just as well. "Indeed. I should like some confirmation of your flight data. I notice you're listed at achieving some rather high speeds—"

"I know exactly what you notice." Her face hardened a bit, as did her voice. "You wonder if that data is accurate, or if someone faked it because I look good. Believe me, I wondered myself. You can know this now: I investigated it myself. It _is_ factual, I know it. If you chose to believe me or not, that's nothing I can influence. You can take my word or leave it, sir."

"I'm inclined to take it, Aau'Trey. What I meant was do you think you can still achieve those speeds, being slightly out of practice in an X-wing's cockpit. I note you've been flying A-wings for a time." _Actually, that surprises me. Looks like appearances can be very deceiving. She sure looks a lot tougher than I'd have thought, and can talk it, too._

Her face seemed to brighten a bit as she replied, "yes, sir. I feel confident that I _can _achieve those speeds. I _also _feel certain that I can bring my kill ratio up a bit as soon as I get into some true combat."

_"Bring my kill ration up a bit"…_If _that's_ not an understatement…she doesn't have even _one _kill there, and she's saying "bring it up a bit"? Will wonders never cease, she talks like a…like a trained diplomat! "If that is indeed the case, Aau'Trey, then I may get back to you, either shortly or some other time. For now, though, I do have some other candidates to interview, but if they all go as quickly as yours did, you should get an answer rather shortly. Know that you're at least in the running; whether or not you make it is still up in the air."

"Thank you, sir. That's more than I could ask." With a perfectly executed graceful bow rather than a salute, the Twi'lek swept form his office, leaving Wedge with the feeling he'd just been brushed by royalty. 

_Okay…that went well…I think. Anyway, onto number three, _Jennnsingsah, a Doappad from Frrendoad, he checked out as a hot hand with an X-wing, but seemed to have a pessimistic mind-set. He'd only been in two battles, but that was an up on Aau'Trey's zero…He punched the button to call the Doappad in.

"Commmanderrr Antilllesss, Jennnsingsah rrreporrrtinnng sssirrr." 

"Jennnsingsah, at ease. I'm afraid I don't have much time for this, so I'll make this fast. Now, you check out as combat-tried on an X-wing, correct?"

"Yesss, sssirrr, we dddo."

"We?" _Oh, Sith, not another Runt case with multiple minds…I don't have time for this!_

"Yesss, sssirrr, usss. We arrre nnnietttherrr a hhhe orrr a ssshe, sssinnnce we arrre Doappad. You may rrreffferrr to usss asss "usss" or "ittt" ifff you lllikkke, sssirrr." 

"Ah, I see." _Thank the Force, it's not!_ "I understand you have also been in two battles?"

"Ifff you wwwannnttt ttto call ittt ttthattt, sssirrr, buttt we sssee ittt asss mmmorrre rrrouttts ttthannn batttlllesss." 

"So I may assume that you…"

"Lllosssttt, sssirrr. Yesss, sssirrr. We lllosssttt annnddd dddiddd nnnottt evennn dddie innn ittt, sssirrr." 

"I would think that would be a good point, Jennnsingsah. The fact that you survived, I mean." 

"Nnno, sssirrr. Ttthattt isss nnnottt gooddd, sssirrr. We tttrrrieddd to dddie, sssirrr, buttt ourrr llleaddderrr orrrderrreddd usss awwway, sssirrr."

"I see. So, then, you _wanted _to die, indeed, would prefer to have died than lived?"

"Yesss, sssirrr."

"Then tell me, Jennnsingsah, why you didn't, for example, commit suicide?"

"Ttthattt wwwoulddd nnnottt be honnnorrrabllle, sssirrr. We hopppeddd ttto dddie in commmbattt, sssirrr. Ttthennn we wwwoulddd be dddeaddd, sssirrr." 

"I see." Wedge _did _see. He noticed a fatalist complex if he'd ever seen one; even Myn Donos hadn't been this _obvious_ after Talon Squadron had been obliterated. It was as if the Doappad just wanted to die, but with the death not being its "fault" in a guarantee. As if it would stick itself in front of a blaster, but it'd need someone else to pull the trigger without prompting. "Dismissed."

"Sssirrr?"

"I said dismissed, Jennnsingsah. I expect you to follow orders and leave, now."

A low growling sound came from the Doappad's throat, then, just as Wedge began to fear it would launch itself at him, he twirled and stormed out without so much as a salute.

_Okay, so that one _didn't _go so well…Here's hoping the next candidate works out, or I'm back where I was before; short a pilot. As it is, looks like Aau'Trey is definitely in._

Greel Dua, thankfully, was the last pilot on his list. She was a little lady he'd flown with before, back in the early days of the Rebellion. Not terribly outstanding specifically, she was still a good pilot and someone he knew he could trust, security clearance or no. She'd joined the Rebellion before the Death Star, one of the few Alderaanians he knew who'd abandoned pacifism to fight back openly. Dua, as she called herself rather than Greel, had been well on her way to beating him in pilot skill, before Tarkin's pet project had shattered her world—and her.

After leaning about her planet's destruction, Dua had become rather cationic. She'd gone into shock and became basically a droid. She'd do what she was told to, but orders had to be rather specific because she seemed to have lost all free will. Unable to pilot starships any longer, she had been reduced to the Alliance's "walking dead" a term used to describe "sleepers" who could still function to a limited degree. Captured by the Empire shortly after Hoth, she'd been given up for dead for some time. It wasn't until after the liberation of Coruscant that she'd been found in one of the lower-level prison facilities. Her record up to very recently was classified too high for him to access, but Wedge did know that she had been transferred back to fighter squadrons and had been a training instructor for a short time. He hoped her time both as an Imp prisoner and in a basic coma hadn't changed Dua a lot, because she'd been a good person.

When she entered, at first Wedge couldn't see the slightest difference. Not a single wrinkle had been added to her face, her hair was still as black as the spaces between stars, and her eyes still a deep violet. The yes caught him, though. He'd expected some pain, yes, but not _this_. Just looking at her eyes, Wedge could see her heart had been not just broken but shattered; the sorrow and pain in there was almost palpable. Once he saw that, he was freed up to notice the other changes. Dua seemed even shorter and more petite than he remembered her, painfully thin. She seemed all shrunk in on herself and walked slower, warily almost, as if she expected someone would yell at her if they saw her. 

"Dua, I…" Wedge found he could think of nothing to say; his throat seemed as closed as if he'd swallowed a hydrospaner. 

"Commander Antilles. I'm glad to be here, sir." Her voice was quieter, almost a whisper, and laced with hurt, her stance bellying her words.

"Uh, right, Captain. Have a seat, please." Dua sank into the chair half-grateful that he'd offered it, half-terrified someone would kill her for sitting. Wedge decided to drop the mask, "Dua, by the Force, what happened?"

The ghost of a smile played around her lips, as if she'd almost forgotten how to do so. "I lost it, Wedge. I lost everything: my home, my planet, my life, but worst of all, my spirit. I'm only now getting that back from her."

"Her? Her, who, Dua?"

"_Her_, Wedge. Ysane Isard."

"Isard…" Wedge's voice dropped to a whisper, "how?"

"Lusankya. She got me, but couldn't use me."

"My…god. Dua, what did she _do _to you? How did you…"

"I survived, Wedge, because I was so useless. She couldn't do anything with me, so she didn't bother to kill me. Then, I wished she had."

"And now, Dua? What now?"

"Now? Now, I think you should interview me, as you seem rather rushed."

"I…right." Wedge forced himself back into reality. "Okay, um…" he looked at his datapad, all facts having been wiped cleanly form his mind by Dua's appearance. "Well, you used to be really good in an X-wing. How are you now?"

"Slow. I hadn't been in one for a long, long time. Then…it just wasn't as worth it. I didn't have to be, because my trainees were even slower."

"Slow," Wedge knew, by Dua's estimates, was actually pretty good. Back when he'd first joined, she'd told him he was a Hutt going up a greased hill, when he'd been one of the better pilots. The normal TIE fighter, she said, were Hutts going _backwards_ up a transparisteel window with oil on it.

"I see…so, do you want to be in Rouge Squadron?"

"Yes. Yes, I do…I think I do…"

"You think…?"

"I think so, yes, Wedge, I do. If you want me in, I'll be in. If you don't—well, there's not all that much I can do then, either way, is there?" A faint, thin smile faded in around Dua's mouth for a brief second.

"Ah…right. Well, I actually don't just want you in, Dua, I _need _you in. We have something big going on; very big. I can't tell you anything more, you know, but I want your help. If you think you're up for it?"

"I can be…yes…if you want me, Wedge, you've got me."

"Dua…are you sure you're okay?"

"'Okay' Wedge? No, I'm too hurt to be 'okay' but if you mean am I good enough to fly?…Yes, I am.

"But I won't ever be 'okay' again…"


End file.
